


5 times Tony helped Bruce down from a nightmare (+1 time he let Bruce return the favour)

by blewoutthestars



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Bruce Banner Feels, Bruce Banner Needs a Hug, Bruce Has Issues, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hulk Talks, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Nightmares, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Pre-Slash, Protective Natasha Romanov, Protective Tony, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-01
Updated: 2016-10-29
Packaged: 2018-04-24 07:26:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4910461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blewoutthestars/pseuds/blewoutthestars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce has nightmares.</p><p>Tony knows how that feels.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I had a weird need to write LOTS of nightmare fluff so this is basically the most self-indulgent thing I've ever written. And that is truly saying something. Also I promise this gets slashier as it goes along!
> 
> Massive hugs to deepdarkwaters for sorting out my sentence structure and abuse of commas <3
> 
> Please heed the tags!

The first time, Tony only knew because Jarvis woke him.

Bruce had been at the tower for a month. At first Tony had put him up in one of the guest suites on the lower floors, blessedly undamaged despite the best efforts of the chitauri and… well, Bruce. But four weeks later, both his and Bruce’s floors had been completed and Bruce had, under duress, agreed to move in at least semi-permanently. It had taken all of Tony’s persuasive skills; Bruce seemed chemically unable to do anything just to be happy. The card that won was Tony pointing out that if Bruce lived in Avengers tower he would be easy to contact if SHIELD needed his help, and maybe knocking down a few bad guys might help ease the guilt of all Hulk’s former smashing. It was a low blow that gnawed at Tony’s conscience, but it convinced Bruce to stay, and Tony figured he’d make it up to him with an endless supply of exciting new lab toys and funky-smelling tea.

Besides, having Bruce under his roof was the only sure-fire way that Tony could make sure his new friend was ok.

So with many mumbled thanks Bruce moved into his new apartment right below Tony’s penthouse and everything was going swimmingly. Until Tony was woken at 2:46 am by the insistent voice of his AI.

‘Sir, I believe your attention is required.’

Tony checked the time, groaned and rolled over in the king-size bed, burying his head under a pillow. He’d only gone to bed an hour ago and he’d been in the middle of a _really good_ dream. ‘What? I swear to god J, this had better be important.’

‘There is a disturbance in Dr Banner’s room, sir. Security protocol number 29 might be in order.’

Immediately Tony was bolt upright, all thoughts of sleep and tingly dreams forgotten. Naturally, when he’d designed Bruce’s floor it had seemed prudent to build in a few extra features; in fact Bruce had insisted on personally looking over the security as a condition of his accepting the apartment. Activating security protocol 29 would cause foot-thick titanium alloy plates to cover the windows, wall, floor and ceiling in a matter of seconds, theoretically making the room hulk-proof - but no one had ever really had the chance to thoroughly study the true extent of hulk’s strength, and Banner had vetoed Tony’s suggestions that perhaps they should do the research, y’know, for science.

Jarvis was programmed to put the protocol into effect at the slightest tinge of green, so the situation couldn’t be too dire yet. Tony wasn’t in the habit of spying on his friends in the middle of the night, but Bruce had agreed that he could access a vid feed of his apartment in case of emergency. Tony had been very, very good about abiding by that caveat. Admittedly, Bruce had only moved into the apartment five days ago, but he still thought the self-control was admirable.

In this case though, he thought it was probably okay to use his viewing privileges. ‘J, show me Banner,’ he instructed.

Jarvis pulled up a screen of Bruce’s bedroom. Tony could see why Jarvis was concerned; Bruce was thrashing like a wild animal in a net. He’d half kicked off his sheets and even in night vision Tony could see the sweat that covered the bare skin of his torso.

‘Would you like audio, sir?’

‘Do it.’

The sounds of Bruce’s nightmare flooded Tony’s bedroom; his breathing was hard and ragged and god, was that _whimpering?_ Tony wondered if that was what he looked like on the nights when he-

No.

Don’t go there.

On the screen Banner curled into a foetal position, a single word wrenching itself from him. ‘Stop!’

Tony was jerked back to the present by Bruce’s shout. The projection showed him scramble to a sitting position, breathing heavily and eyes darting around like he expected enemies to jump out at any moment. After a few seconds he relaxed, letting his shoulders sag, and sank his forehead down to his knees. Tony couldn’t help but notice the way he was trembling.

‘Shall I connect you to Dr Banner, sir?’

‘No,’ Tony said quickly, ‘No, he’s not in any danger right now.’ Much as he wanted to, he knew Bruce well enough to realise that if he went butting in right now he’d probably just scare him away. Bruce had better reasons than most to want to keep his weaknesses private, and Tony understood that painfully well. This needed handling more delicately.

He pinched the screen, shrinking it to tablet-size. ‘Just let me know if I need to worry about the structure of my building, okay?’

He settled back into his pillows, but it was a very long time before he began to doze.

***

Very early the next morning – earlier than most humans in their right mind would even consider being awake and dressed, but then it had been years since Tony bothered with such pedestrian concepts as _normal hours_ and _sleep patterns_ \- Bruce found Tony sitting at his kitchen table sipping a coffee and swiping news articles on his tablet, looking for all the world like he _always_ visited Bruce at dawn. 

Tony barely glanced up, but it was enough to see that Bruce looked like shit. ‘Morning.’

‘Well this is a… surprise.’ Bruce hovered uncertainly, until Tony gestured at the chair opposite him and he finally sat down. ‘Is something up?’

‘What, a guy can’t buy breakfast for his favourite scientist anymore? Romance is truly dead.’ He put the tablet down and couldn’t help but smirk at the deeply unimpressed look Banner was giving him. ‘Okay, okay, I happen to know that you had a rough night, and the three hours I slept weren’t exactly untroubled, so I figured we could caffeine-load together and head to the lab.’ He stood. ‘Speaking of which…’

He retrieved a tray from the kitchen counter and set it, with no small air of pride, in front of Bruce. It contained a steaming teapot, a single cup and saucer and a prim little milk jug.

The gesture didn’t do anything to lessen Bruce’s expression of utter confusion.

He folded his arms and gave Tony his best _enough with this shit now_ look. It was a look Tony had been on the receiving end of at least three times a day since he was about six years old, but he had to concede that on Bruce it was particularly charming. He settled back into his chair and gave Bruce a brilliant smile. Bruce responded with a glower.

‘Okay, Tony, first of all I’m going to need to know why exactly you’re spying on me when I sleep. I mean, I know it’s your house, but unless things changed while I was out of the world, that isn’t exactly socially appropriate.’ He paused and gave the teapot another baffled look. ‘Secondly, and this might be almost as important, but _when_ did you learn to make tea?’

‘Tea that you’re not even drinking.’

‘Because the tea is suspicious.’

‘Fine.’ Tony threw up his hands in defeat. ‘But only because you’re being so _deeply_ paranoid. Let’s be clear on this first: I haven’t been spying on you. But Jarvis thought we might have an unexpected code green on our hands and when I checked the vid feed you were tossing and turning like crazy, and not in the fun way. And rather than confront you about your crazy-ass nightmares I tried to do the subtle thing. Which, by the way, points for effort because subtle is _not_ my strong point.’

‘Agreed.’ Bruce quirked an eyebrow but began pouring himself a cup of tea.

‘Which brings us to the second point.’ Tony waved a hand at the tea set. ‘I wouldn’t exactly say I _made_ the tea; I tried a few times but it went… not well… actually the last time nearly resulted in a fire, I don’t even know how that happened… so I had Jarvis order some in. They said it was breakfast tea, I don’t exactly know what that is but it’s about breakfast time so it seemed appropriate.’

Bruce gawked at him, teacup stalled halfway to his mouth. ‘You… _sent out for tea_?’

‘Yep.’

‘I didn’t even know there were places that did take-out tea.’

‘Well, it wasn’t exactly on the menu…’

‘Putting that aside, you’re telling me that in all this mess of gadgets you don’t own a tea maker? Even you could work one of those.’

‘I’m pretty sure I have at least two.’ Tony shrugged and drained his coffee. ‘But I know your opinions, I’ve heard the rants. That time the waiter at that café tried to pour your tea first and put the milk in second? Ouch. No way I’m risking that kind of rejection, Banner.’

Bruce was doing his level best to maintain his exasperated expression, but a smile was beginning to tug at the corner of his mouth and Tony didn’t miss it.

‘So, now we’ve established both that I’m not spying on you and that I can’t make tea, you gonna tell me how long you’ve been having nightmares?’

Bruce took a sip of his tea before he replied. ‘You’ve abandoned the subtle approach, then?’

Tony shrugged. ‘Wasn’t working out.’

Bruce half-nodded an agreement and picked up his cup again. Seconds ticked by while he blew gently onto the surface of the steaming liquid and Tony watched him, wondering if he’d forgotten the question or if he was deliberately ignoring it. He was just about to push for an answer when Bruce put down his cup, took a breath and looked him straight in the eyes.

‘Tony, if you’re worried about the other guy I can just go. It’s okay, I already figured that you’d eventually realise having me in the building isn’t exactly an ideal living situation.’ The emotion behind his eyes was unreadable. He even managed a tight smile. ‘It’s okay,’ he repeated.

Something about that phrase, about how deliberately placid Bruce was looking, made a cold anger curl into Tony’s stomach. He wasn’t sure if it was directed at Bruce for thinking that Tony would want him to leave, or if it was at the rest of the world that made Bruce believe he was such a monster he shouldn’t be around other people. Perhaps a bit of both.

‘It’s not okay.’ His voice was louder than he had meant it to be; he took a breath and made an effort to sound calmer. ‘I mean,’ he spoke more quietly, ‘It’s not Hulk that’s concerning me, big guy. It’s you that I’m worried about.’

Bruce smiled, a little sadness dancing behind his eyes. ‘You don’t need to worry about me, Tony. I’m fine.’

‘Liar.’

Bruce raised his eyebrows, mock-offended, but said nothing. It was infuriating. Here Tony was trying to _help_ the guy, trying to be a goddamn _sympathetic ear_ , and Banner wouldn’t even _accept_ it. Wouldn’t even admit how shit it was to wake up drenched in your own sweat, convinced that all your worst fears have come true and are happening right here, right now. Wouldn’t even recognise that that wasn’t something anyone deserved, especially not _him_.

It didn’t even take the full train of thought for Tony to realise how unreasonable he was being.

‘Look,’ he said, huffing the word out like a sigh, ‘No one who is fine wakes up hyperventilating with terror in the middle of the night, okay?’ The next bit was the tough part and it wouldn’t come easily; he braced himself and spat out in a rush, ‘ _I should know,_ alright?’ Bruce looked taken aback, but this time Tony didn’t give him the chance to speak. ‘As for whether I _need_ to worry about you, Banner; the math shows that I don’t _need_ to do roughly 90% of the things I do. Worrying about you though? That falls into the remaining 10%.’

It seemed like an age that Bruce just stared at him. Tony had never been so good with emotions - he chalked it up to unresolved parental issues - and so he found Banner’s expression near-on impossible to read, but it didn’t look like he was about to get a punch in the face so he held his ground. Eventually Bruce dropped his head into one hand, massaging his forehead with the base of his palm and moaning a sigh of resignation.

‘I guess… a few years ago.’ It took Tony a moment to realise Bruce was answering his earlier question. ‘I don’t know, I’m not so great at keeping track of the dates. After Betty. The nightmares started after Betty. Or, perhaps,’ he scrunched his face; Tony couldn’t tell if it was frustration or something darker, more primal, ‘Perhaps I should say they started _again_ after Betty.’

The bottom of Tony’s stomach fell out and landed roughly three floors down. Tongue-tied at _his own fucking stupidity_ all he could do was reach out and grasp Bruce’s shoulder with what he hoped was a comforting solidarity. Since he’d seen Bruce tossing and turning last night he’d assumed – it seemed correctly – that this was not one-off occurrence, but it had never even occurred to him that the nightmares weren’t a purely hulk-related phenomenon. _Stupid._

Of course, Tony knew about Bruce’s past. He’d read Banner’s SHIELD file before he’d even met the man, just as he’d done with all the team members and a few others besides. Many of them – hell, most of them – made for uncomfortable reading, but Bruce’s had made Tony sick to his stomach. If Howard Stark had been a poor father, Brian Banner had been a goddamn monster. A violent alcoholic, he’d repeatedly beaten Bruce as a child before eventually murdering his mother when she tried to protect him. Bruce had been forced to watch _everything_. No wonder he didn’t sleep at night.

Tony gave Bruce’s shoulder another squeeze and let go. He knew all too well what it cost the scientist to talk about these things, even obliquely; he himself refused to talk, refused to _think_ about Obediah, and Pepper was the only person he’d ever talked to about his real relationship with Howard. Bruce, in his turn, looked shaky, but he managed a smile, and Tony knew that for once managing to refrain from asking a hundred questions had been the right call.

They shared a moment of silence before Tony broke it by loudly scraping his chair back and standing up. He gave Bruce a friendly slap on the back and walked to the door. ‘Shower. Lab. Ten minutes.’ He grinned. ‘Don’t be late. I’m ordering everything for breakfast.’


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce has another nightmare, but this time Tony is forced to intervene.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as always to my fabulous proofreader deepdarkwaters for giving structure to my sentences <3

The second time it happened, everything was a bit more dramatic.

Weirdly, it wasn’t the alarms that woke him - it was the flashing green lights, bright enough to half blind him the moment he cracked an eye open, that persuaded his for once peacefully sleeping brain to wake up. Bruce had thought that making the lights green rather than the traditional red of a warning light was a little tacky, but it seemed like the tackiness was worth it because red just means _danger_ and in Tony’s life that really doesn’t narrow it down; green, on the other hand, has only one possible meaning, and Tony’s sleep-fogged brain needed all the help it could get.

It could only mean…

Surely not…

‘Jarvis?’ he croaked, forcing his dry, whiskey-sour throat to make his voice loud enough to be heard over the alarms. ‘Jarvis, is-’

‘Sir.’ Jarvis cut him off, sounding as rattled as the AI could. ‘Protocol 29 is in full effect, sir. May I recommend that you relocate to the safe room immediately.’

That had been another of Bruce’s stipulations; that in the basement there would be a safe room, or ‘bunker’ as Tony referred to it with a sneer, for any non-superheroes in the tower in case of a Hulk-out. Bruce had been very clear that that included Tony. ‘Even in the suit, you’re no match,’ he’d reasoned. ‘If I stay we can work on something that might make us a little more even, but for now… I don’t want to hurt you, Tony.’ Tony had grudgingly agreed that in case of an unplanned code green he would hightail it to the safe room, but in reality?

‘I’m sorry, J, but screw that.’

Ignoring Jarvis’s stern protests, Tony headed to the emergency stairway, for once listening to that last remaining scrap of self-preservation that suggested using the elevator during a code green was maybe not such a great idea. The alarms were still shrieking away, making it impossible for Tony to think straight.

‘Jarvis, is anyone else in the building?’

‘You and Doctor Banner are alone, sir.’

‘Then cut the goddamn alarms, ok?’

Immediately the noise and flashing lights stopped, but were replaced by the muffled sounds of something large getting very, very broken. Tony paused for a moment to try and figure out whether that was a wall cabinet or an actual _wall_ getting ripped apart.

‘J, is there a breach?’ Even Tony wasn’t foolish enough to continue on if there was an escaped Hulk waiting for him on the next floor down. Probably.  
‘The Hulk is contained, sir. However, I fear Dr Banner may need a new kitchen to be fitted.’

‘Room integrity?’

‘The shutters are at 97% integrity. Sir, I really must insist that you make your way to the safe room. You are not equipped to fight the Hulk.’

‘Thanks for the concern.’ Tony started down the stairs again, though more slowly, listening for any sign that the Hulk’s attention had turned from the kitchen appliances to the walls. ‘Fighting isn’t really part of the plan, though.’

Aside from the faint smashing sounds, everything looked normal in the small hallway outside Bruce’s apartment. The plaster on the walls hadn’t even cracked. Tony approached Bruce’s door and bent his head to press his ear against the wood. Somewhere inside he could hear Hulk bellowing, but the top-line soundproofing, with which Tony had equipped every building he’d ever designed after Pepper had made some crack about one of his conquests back in the old days having “sounding like she’d had the most boring orgasm any person had ever been unfortunate enough to experience,” was doing its job, and he couldn’t tell whether Hulk was in the furthest corner of the apartment or right on the other side of the door.

‘Jarvis, open voice channels to Bruce’s apartment. Let’s try a little talking therapy.’

The small hallway was flooded with noise as Jarvis followed the instruction, but Tony was pleased to note that it all sounded much more like wooden furniture splintering than metal walls getting pounded. It seemed that Hulk liked the ‘all natural’ look just as much as Bruce did, but Tony suspected probably more for its smashability than for eco-friendliness or zen or chi or whatever the hell reasons Bruce had wanted everything made out bamboo and reclaimed wood.

‘Hey, big guy,” he called, knowing that Jarvis was relaying his voice into the apartment. He was almost deafened by Hulk’s response, a primal roar that made Tony take an instinctive step back from the door. Hulk carried on bellowing in odd bursts, and now Tony could hear his crashing footsteps as he stumbled around the apartment. Not rampaging or hunting; the sounds were directionless and uncertain. There was a pause and then one more howl, quieter than the others and, unless Tony was kidding himself, pleading. Hulk was _scared._

‘Shh, it’s okay.’ Tony tried again, speaking more quietly. His heart was pounding hard enough that he wouldn’t have been surprised if it had popped right out of his chest, arc reactor and all, but he forced himself to take slow breaths. He couldn’t afford to lose it now, not when Bruce was having his own particularly green and violent strain of panic attack. Later.

He sat on the floor with his back against Bruce’s front door. ‘It’s okay. I know that you’re freaking out right now because puny Banner’s brain was sending you all these panic signals and now you can’t find the danger to smash, but I promise it’s alright. You’re at home. You remember that, home? Do you know what home is, big green? It means you’re safe. All that other stuff; Ross, everything before that, it’s gone now, and I swear I won’t let it come back again. I _swear_. I’ll keep you safe, okay? I guess I thought I’d said that through the apartment and the lab and the take-out tea but maybe the message wasn’t clear or maybe it’s not enough, maybe there _isn’t_ an enough, I mean _fucking Christ_ I know how that feels, big guy, that’s the whole damn reason that Pep’s in Malibu fending off many eligible bachelors. Shit, this isn’t about me. I’m rambling. I do that. I didn’t really get the chance to plan this speech.’ He sighed. He had the feeling that this wasn’t coming out as soothing as he had intended. ‘Anyway, the point is, I’m not going to let anyone try to hurt you or Banner again, and I’ll make sure you don’t hurt anyone who didn’t gloriously deserve to be smashed. I know you don’t have a reason to believe that and as far as you’re concerned this could all be a big trap, and the fact that I’ve sort of trapped you in there probably isn’t helping my case, but it really isn’t. The truth is I _want_ to keep you safe. Because I… Bruce… there are feelings, big guy. Scary stupid feelings that I really don’t want to look at too closely if that’s alright with you, but it boils down to the fact that I _need_ to keep you guys safe. And if you wouldn’t mind not passing all that on to Bruce I’d be very grateful.’

Silence.

_Well, huh._ Tony thought. _At least he’s not trying to batter the door down._

It really, really hadn’t been the master plan to confess his feelings of… what? Love? No, that seemed grossly overdramatic. Lust, maybe? At this point, the only feeling Tony was certain of was intense confusion. Whatever it was, he was pretty sure it was horrendously inappropriate, especially so soon after his split with Pepper. The break-up had been as amicable as possible; she’d simply realised after New York that she couldn’t be the one waiting for an apocalypse phone call, and little as Tony liked it even he realised that that was a lot to ask of someone. They still talked on the phone every day, sometimes for business and sometimes just to talk, but Tony had the weird, nagging feeling that he should be a lot more messed up over it than he was; that he should be spending his days nursing a bottle of scotch rather than building an apartment for his new friend. It just didn’t make any goddamn sense at all.

‘Dr Banner is regaining consciousness, sir.’

Tony hadn’t even registered that Hulk had stopped making noise; it hadn’t even occurred to him that his attempt to talk him down might have actually _worked._

‘Open the door, J. Let’s see what the damage is.’

***

The damage was, as it turned out, essentially total. Every bit of furniture had been snapped to matchsticks, and there were large gouges in the walls, in some places deep enough to see the metal plates beneath the plaster. Bruce’s bedroom door had been entirely demolished, replaced by a jagged hole in the wall. Tony stuck his head through it to assess the situation but quickly withdrew as a chunk of masonry fell from the ceiling. Definitely a hard hat area.

A groan came from the kitchen, and upon investigation Tony found Bruce curled up naked on the floor, next to what might once had been Bruce’s oven but now more closely resembled a piece of twisted modern art. He moaned again and Tony dropped to his knees beside him.

‘Hey, Bruce. You okay? Can you move?’

‘I think so.’ The physicist reached for Tony’s proffered arm and painfully sat up.

‘We need to get out of here, okay? Main structure of the room looks fine but the plaster’s a little shaky, and I don’t really need a dust bath. Besides… there’s not really a lot left in here.’

Bruce nodded, not even looking at the destruction around them. Tony reached for half a torn curtain, tugging it out from under a pile of rubble and wrapping it around Bruce.

‘Sorry for the lack of designer clothing, or clothing in general, but your closet pretty much isn’t there anymore. I’ll sort something out, but let’s just get out of here first, alright?’

He half-carried a still weak Bruce out of the apartment and into the elevator. Bruce barely raised his head until they reached the bedroom in Tony’s penthouse and Tony lowered him onto the edge of the bed.

‘You shouldn’t have brought me here. It’s not safe.’ His voice was ragged and he clutched the torn curtain around himself like a comfort blanket. Over the last few weeks spent predominantly in the lab with Tony, Bruce had begun to stand a little taller, hold his head a little higher, but now he curled in on himself like sheer willpower could make him disappear.

‘Yeah, okay.’ Tony rolled his eyes. ‘Sure, that would have been a great plan; I should just have left you in your newly-remodelled junk heap with your fetching curtain-toga. That wouldn’t unnerve the builders at all. Speaking of which…’ He turned to grab his tablet from the dresser top and began to swipe through files relating to the tower rebuild. ‘Jarvis, I’m putting the blueprints for Doctor Banner’s apartment back into the working folder, make sure whassisname – Bill? You know, the head contractor guy – knows it’s top priority. I’m not a big fan of Hulk’s redecoration.’

He’d been trying to lighten the mood, but when Tony turned back to Bruce he was horrified to see the other man’s shoulders shaking as he struggled to hold back rattling sobs. Tablet and files forgotten, he closed the distance between them and threw himself onto his knees in front of Bruce, trying to get eye contact even as Bruce turned away from him.

‘Hey, hey, no no no, aww shit, Bruce, I didn’t mean…’ His mouth was running, and as usual it wasn’t helping. He leaned in and gave Bruce an awkward one-armed hug, unsure of what the appropriate amount of contact was. Bruce stiffened but didn’t pull away, so Tony took a gamble and added the other arm.

Bruce took a shaky breath. ‘Tony, I’m-’

‘Shush.’ Tony cut him off. ‘If the word “sorry” leaves your mouth I swear to god that I will tell Nat you want to be her new sparring partner, and I don’t make that kind of threat idly.’ Bruce made a small noise that might _just_ have been a laugh, and Tony pulled out of the hug to look him in the eye. ‘Seriously, Bruce. I don’t _care_ about the apartment. It’s just stuff. It’ll be fixed in two days, tops. I’m more worried about you, big guy. If there’s anything I can do just name it.’

Bruce self-consciously scrubbed at his eyes with a corner of his curtain. ‘Clothes would be good.’

‘Yes. Clothes. Good idea.’ Tony stood up and disappeared into his walk-in closet. A couple of minutes later he reappeared with a pair of sweatpants and a knitted sweater which he threw in Bruce’s direction. ‘Sorry, not much choice in your size. I didn’t get a great look but from what I saw in your bedroom it looks like Hulk has added “tearing” to his resume right under “smashing”. I’ll have Jarvis order you some things in tomorrow. Until then you might just have to go with the loungewear look. Anyone ever tell you that you have crazy-wide shoulders?’

Pulling on the clothes, Bruce quirked an eyebrow. ‘It’s never really come up in conversation, no.’

‘Well, I mean, it’s a good thing, I wish I had your shoulders. Not that I spend a lot of time thinking about them. Your shoulders.’ _Keep it together, Stark._

Bruce sat back down on the edge of the bed and wrapped his arms around himself. ‘Look, Tony, I appreciate you trying to distract me, but it’s obvious what tonight means.’

Tony sat beside him. ‘What? That I need to order spare furniture next time?’ The look Bruce gave him immediately made him regret the remark. He looked broken.

‘I can’t stay. I have to go. If there’s a risk that every time I have a nightmare the other guy might make an appearance then it’s not safe to have me here. First thing tomorrow, I have to leave.’

‘Well, that’s the most insane logic I ever heard.’ Tony worked hard to keep his voice calm. ‘Look, I get that this isn’t really an idea state of affairs but the security measures worked, didn’t they? Hulk hardly made a mark on the shutters. He never even tried to get out of the apartment, Bruce. There’s nowhere else on earth you’ll find that kind of security. Plus, I calmed him down pretty easily. No harm no foul.’

‘You calmed Hulk down? How did you…?’

‘Ah, well…’ At least Bruce didn’t remember. ‘You know, talked to him through the door, sang him a lullaby. That sort of stuff.’

‘You _sang Hulk a lullaby?_ ’

‘… Yep.’

Bruce dropped his head with a small chuckle and ran his fingers through his hair. ‘Tonight just gets weirder and weirder.’

‘You’ll stay, then?’

‘You’re like a dog with a bone.’

‘Nothing we didn’t know already. Stay?’ He gave Bruce his very best puppy eyes. They had never worked on Pepper, but there was a first time for everything. ‘Please?’

Bruce sighed in defeat. ‘Only if you swear that if there’s a “next time” you’ll go to the safe room. _Promise me_ , Tony. That’s the deal.’ His eyes were wet but his voice was as fierce as Tony had ever heard it. If telling a white lie could make him stay in the tower, where he could be protected, surely that was okay.

Tony drew an ‘x’ over the reactor with his finger. ‘Cross my heart.’

‘Good. I… I can’t be responsible for hurting you. The apartment’s bad enough, but if I harmed anyone here… I think there’s only so much guilt I can take.’ He fiddled with a hole in his sleeve, his voice only just loud enough to be heard. Tony placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently.

‘You don’t have to feel guilty, Bruce.’

‘Kinda do.’ Bruce gave him a watery, self-deprecating smile. ‘The other guy isn’t the only one who’s tried to hurt people. You’ve read my file. You know.’

‘Yeah, I have.’ He knew all about it; the abuse, the bullying, and the bomb that it had driven Bruce to try and make when he was barely even out of fucking childhood. It had been a dud, fortunately, but Tony guessed almost blowing up your school was something that would stay with a person. He hadn’t expected to ever hear Bruce mention it. ‘But I’ll listen if you want to tell me about it.’ His hand stayed on Bruce’s shoulder.

Bruce rubbed his eyes again. ‘Maybe some other time. I think… I just want to try and sleep now.’

Tony nodded, ‘Okay. Another time. Now, on to more practical matters.’ He gestured towards the bed. ‘Which side do you want?’

Bruce’s look of confusion was priceless. ‘Side? I didn’t… I was just going to drag a mattress into my apartment.’

‘You’re being ridiculous. It’s a health and safety nightmare in there and you don’t have any shoes. Besides, I don’t think I should leave you alone right now. It’s fine: they don’t actually have a name for a bed this size, you’re not going to crowd me.’

‘But there’s no security in here… If I have another nightmare…’

‘Then I’ll wake you up.’ Tony stood up and swatted Bruce out of the way so he could pull the sheets. He gestured at Bruce to get in. ‘Seriously, I’m a light sleeper; if you start tossing and turning I’ll know about it. I can wake you up before you’re even green-tinged. Trust me.’

Bruce shot Tony one last look and climbed gingerly between the sheets. Tony followed, making sure to keep a good distance away from his friend. Sharing an extremely large bed was one thing but he wasn’t sure if he could handle bumping bare toes with Bruce. He flicked the light switch and lay in the dark, ultra-conscious of the other man only a couple of feet away.

‘Uh, Tony?’

‘Yeah?’

The discomfort in Bruce’s voice was so palpable that Tony could imagine his blush even without needing to see his face. ‘Do you mind if I come a bit closer? To be safe. Just in case.’

‘Yeah, sure.’

Bruce scooted over so close they were almost sharing a pillow. His fingers brushed Tony’s arm as he settled like a cat making a nest in the blankets. ‘Thanks. I mean it. For everything.’

Tony turned on his side and closed his eyes. ‘Don’t mention it. Just try not to rip me apart in my sleep.’ 

Bruce retaliated by jabbing him in the chest. ‘I’ll do my best.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just going to get more self-indulgent with each passing chapter XD Personal mission to include all the tropes ever ;)
> 
> Next chapter: lots of cuddling and Tony might have to stop being quite so 'Tony' about this whole having feelings thing.


	3. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony is confused. Bruce is sleep-deprived. It's not the best mix.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I realise that it's taken me months but I finally wrote a new chapter.
> 
> Much angst because hey, why not.

Tony woke later than usual the next morning – the sun had already finished rising – to find the other side of the bed empty. He very deliberately paid no attention to Bruce’s absence and made his way directly to the ensuite, stripping off his sleeping sweats as he went.

In the shower scalding jets of water massaged muscles that were sore from a night spent frozen in place on the very edge of the mattress, afraid that his sleeping body would betray him and cosy up with Bruce for some unsanctioned snuggle-time. He’d heard Bruce sneaking out of the room just before dawn but even then sleep hadn’t come easily and he’d tossed and turned fitfully for the next few hours before finally giving up. 

The problem was all of these ridiculous, stupid feelings. It wasn’t that Tony had never had feelings for someone else before – he’d loved Pepper; he cared deeply for Rhodey in a strictly platonic sort of way; there were at least one or two girls in college that he’d professed an undying puppy-love for – but it wasn’t exactly well-trodden ground. And honestly, the idea that he might have feelings for Bruce beyond ‘hey buddy, wanna do science together?’ hadn’t even occurred to him until he tried to explain the whole situation to hulk. This was a whole lot of new information that made some things make a lot more sense but threw pretty much everything else out of whack.

He stepped out of the shower and began to towel off. This might all be confusing as hell but he’d never been one to run from a situation. Time to face up to it. ‘Hey Jarvis, call Bruce for me.’

There was a pause as the AI followed his request, then: ‘Dr Banner has requested not to be disturbed at this time.’

‘”Requested not to be disturbed at this time.” What the hell does that mean?’ Tony threw his wet towel onto the bathroom floor with a little more vehemence than was necessary and stalked back into the bedroom, grabbing the first tee and pair of jeans that came to hand. ‘Where is he?’

‘Dr Banner is currently in his laboratory.’

‘Doing what? Let me see his files.’ Tony knew he was being petulant but he was tired and cranky and all kinds of messed up, and Bruce going all mysterious on him wasn’t helping one tiny bit. He left the room, heading for the elevator. Something was going on and he was determined to find out what.

‘I should remind you, sir, that when you offered Dr Banner the use of laboratory 2 you also assured him of complete privacy and research autonomy. I cannot override the security lock on his research unless it contains something potentially and immediately harmful to Dr Banner or the public’s safety.’

Tony paused at the elevator door, finger hovering above the button that would take him to Bruce’s lab. ‘And what he’s working on doesn’t?’

‘You are correct.’

He hesitated a moment longer then punched the button that would instead take him to the garage. ‘Well, I suppose that’s something. If anyone needs me I’ll be with the Roadster.’

***

The next couple of days kept Tony busy enough that he was almost distracted from Bruce’s continued absence. The building crew was finishing up the last of the living quarters and the rest of the team arrived one by one to check out their floors, and Tony was in his element showing off all the technical innovations and little touches he’d put into the designs. None of them aside from Tony and Bruce would be living in the tower full-time – though Tony definitely had plans to coerce them all to stay in the long term – but they all seemed pleased with their apartments. Tony wondered if Steve would remain so pleased when he found the stack of pin-ups that Tony had thoughtfully hidden in the bedside cabinet.  


Thor was the last to arrive, on the third day after Tony and Bruce’s impromptu sleepover. As much to keep himself occupied as anything else Tony suggested a movie night to celebrate them all being back in the same place for the first time since Loki’s attempted invasion. He didn’t expect Bruce to show; he hadn’t even laid eyes on him since _that_ night and every attempt to communicate was met with the same message relayed through Jarvis: he was busy and didn’t want to be disturbed. Tony left him messages, keeping up a kind of one-sided conversation that he could pretend was more for Bruce’s benefit than for his. He left another to let him know that all the team was there and invite him to the movie night and then tried again to forget about him.  


So he was surprised when, as the team was settling down in the big common room, Bruce walked through the door. Natasha had stretched out on one couch, feet not-so-delicately deposited on Tony’s lap; Thor and Steve had taken the other couch and Clint was in the process of chucking bags of popcorn from the open-plan kitchen. One of them missed Bruce’s face by inches as he froze two steps into the room.  


Steve sent Bruce a genuine smile. ‘Banner! I didn’t think you were joining us. Good to see you!’  


His fervour wasn’t returned. Bruce’s expression sat somewhere between startled and dismayed as he looked around the room, silently taking them all in. He looked terrible, like he hadn’t slept in days. Tony also noted that, even though Jarvis had had a whole new wardrobe of clothes delivered the morning after their unexpected code green, Bruce still wore the tatty old sweater Tony had lent him.  


Noticing Tony’s gaze, Bruce dropped his eyes quickly to the floor. When he spoke his words were barely audible, running into each other like a smudge of ink. ‘I was just gonna make some tea, I didn’t realise you guys were…’ he trailed off and gestured half-heartedly at the TV screen.  


‘Your kitchen not fixed yet?’ Tony couldn’t bear this ignoring-each-other thing, especially when he had no idea what he’d done to earn himself the silent treatment.  


‘No, no water.’  


For a brief, glorious moment Bruce actually gave him eye contact and Tony felt his heart flutter like a fucking teenager’s. ‘I’ll have the construction team look on it first thing,’ he promised, and tried not to notice Bruce’s total lack of response.  


Steve broke the awkward silence. ‘Well, now that you’re here you should stay. Take a break.’  


‘Well, I…’  


‘Join us!’ Thor joined in by gesturing to the remaining empty seat, an overstuffed armchair opposite his and Steve’s couch. ‘Work can wait, be with your friends.’

Bruce looked defeated. ‘I suppose a couple of hours won’t hurt.’

He took a step towards the arm chair but Clint raced past him. ‘Shot gun!’ He threw himself into the chair and turned back to Bruce with a shit-eating grin. ‘Sorry Banner, you snooze you lose.’

Natasha rolled her eyes and swung her legs gracefully off the couch. ‘Ignore the big dumb lug. Come on, you can squeeze in with us. It’ll be cosy.’ She patted the cushion between her and Tony.

Bruce still hesitated but evidently decided that it was better to follow a direct instruction from Nat. He sat gingerly down, as though the couch might bite, and Tony tried not to let the way Bruce’s proximity had started his pulse racing show on his face. This was really getting out of hand. As he looked over to see what movie Steve and Thor, who were skimming through his extensive collection, had picked, Nat caught his eye and gave him a positively mischievous look. _What the…?_

Thor finally settled on some trashy action movie that Tony had seen when it came out then promptly forgotten all about. As the theme music pumped out over the opening credits Tony lowered his voice so only Bruce would hear him. ‘I’m sorry the gang surprised you, but I did leave you about twelve messages.’ 

Bruce inclined his head but didn’t turn to look at him. ‘Oh, yeah. I sort of… deleted them.’

‘Without even listening to them?’

He took a moment to consider. ‘…Yes.’

Tony tried very hard to keep the genuine hurt out of his voice and adopt his usual blithe demeanour. ‘Boy, Banner, that’s cold.’

Bruce’s fingers twitched. ‘Not now, Tony. Please.’

It was the “please” that did it. Tony swallowed back a retort and leaned back mock-casually against the cushions, trying to remind himself that just very occasionally his ego wasn’t the most important thing in the room. Bruce looked tired. No, more than that, he looked _exhausted_. There were rings under his eyes so dark he looked like he’d come off the worse in a fist fight with a champion boxer and his skin was sallow. No, this was definitely one of those rare things that classed as more important.

Minutes ticked by and slowly, slowly Tony’ heart rate returned to something near normal and beside him he could feel Bruce beginning to relax marginally as well. The movie was fun enough and Tony was thankful he didn’t have to use any brain power to follow it because really he was kind of exhausted. He’d spent the last few days trying to get his head around ideas and feelings which were really _so_ far from his normal experience of life that it was nice just to space out and have a damn break.

His break, however, didn’t last long. The main hero had just narrowly escaped a warehouse explosion which included some truly laughable green screen efforts when Tony felt a warm weight on his shoulder. He looked down to see Bruce slumped against him, fast asleep.

He should wake him up. He should slide out somehow and let Bruce curl up on his half of the couch. There were a dozen things Tony’s brain told him he _should_ do but he couldn’t bear the thought of disturbing Bruce. He very obviously needed a rest and if this was the place that he felt secure enough to take it then Tony figured it wasn’t his call to stop him.

Bruce’s head was at a weird angle and the way he was leaning was cutting off the circulation to Tony’s arm. Tony shifted a few times trying to get them both more comfortable before he gave up and gently wriggled his arm out from underneath the sleeping scientist. He wrapped it around Bruce’s shoulders and pulled him into a more comfortable position, half-lying against Tony’s chest. Bruce made a small noise and Tony froze, thinking for a moment he’d blown it, but then Bruce relaxed, bringing one hand up to rest his fingertips against the very edge of the arc reactor. His breathing deepened again and Tony let out a breath he didn’t even realise he was holding.

From the other end of the couch Natasha shot him a grin. ‘Cosy?’

‘Shut up.’

***

It was a long movie but Bruce slept right through it. Natasha kept smirking at him but the rest of the team seemed to barely register that Tony had become Bruce’s personal pillow. He’d received a couple of quizzical looks from Clint which he’d responded to with a one-shouldered shrug; Steve had resolutely ignored it and asked Tony if he wanted another drink as though his being incapacitated by a sleeping scientist was completely ordinary, and Thor was apparently completely oblivious to the whole thing.

The movie was just wrapping up its big finale and Tony was wondering if Bruce was going to sleep the night away on top of him when Banner started to twitch. The hand that had been resting against his arc reactor for the best part of two hours suddenly clawed at him, grabbing a fistful of his tshirt and sending Tony’s brain into a black panic. Memories of Obadiah and near death swam in front of his eyes and for a second Tony thought he was going to black out. _Not. Now._ He fought to control his breathing and talk himself back into the room. _C’mon, get a hold of yourself; it’s Banner. He needs you. You’re safe right now but you won’t be for long if you don’t get a grip._

Fighting the adrenaline coursing around his body, Tony swallowed the panic and tried to focus on Bruce. He was shivering, shaking from head to toe and he wouldn’t relax his death-grip on Tony’s shirt. His eyes were screwed shut and Tony could see moisture dampening the corners. Bruce needing waking up right now, before he put all the tower’s inhabitants at risk, but Tony didn’t think he’d cope with being the centre of attention. If Banner woke up from a nightmare to find the whole team staring at him then the consequences might be just as bad as letting the nightmare run its course.

‘Hey, Nat.’ He half-whispered.

She turned her head, frowning as she took in Bruce’s shaking form and the poorly-disguised panic in Tony’s eyes. ‘We got a problem?’

‘Not yet. But I need a clear room.’ Bruce whimpered as if in pain and Tony gave Nat a pleading look. ‘Now.’

Onscreen the credits had just begun to role. Nat nodded once and stood up, crossing the room in a couple of strides to turn off the TV. ‘So, you guys want to take this party to Clint’s apartment?’

‘Hey!’ Clint complained, ‘Why mine? Why not yours?’

‘Because,’ Natasha carefully levelled her voice, ‘Yours is closer. Closer is better.’ She almost imperceptibly jerked her head in the direction of Tony and Bruce.

For a moment everyone’s eyes were on him but Tony didn’t have time to pretend that everything was ok. Steve took one look and then turned back to Natasha, giving her a curt nod. ‘Closer is better.’ He looked at Tony, every bit Captain America ready to do the self-sacrifice thing. ‘Are you sure…?’

Bruce made a noise that was almost a growl. Tony did not have time for this. ‘I’m sure. Get out.’

‘If you need help…’

‘ _Out._ ’ 

Natasha shepherded them from the room, leaving Tony alone with Bruce. He had no idea what the best protocol was for waking someone from a nightmare, but in this case he figured gently was probably the best option. He placed one hand firmly on Bruce's shoulder and shook him carefully. 

‘Bruce. Hey, big guy.’ If anything, Bruce clung even tighter, gasping with terror into Tony’s chest. ‘It’s okay, you’re fine.’ Tony repeated his own mantra through lack of anything better to say. ‘C’mon, wake up, you’re safe.’

He shook Bruce again, harder this time, and all of a sudden Bruce’s eyes flicked open. He took one panic-filled look at Tony and practically threw himself away, curling up at the other end of the sofa with his legs drawn up and his arms wrapped tightly around himself.

Tony didn’t try to come closer, waiting until Bruce’s breathing had slowed down and the wild look had gone out of his eyes. ‘It’s okay,’ he repeated, holding his hands up the way you might if you were approaching an abandoned dog that had forgotten how to trust people. ‘Look, it’s just me. You’re safe. You’re home.’

Bruce was starting to look a little more like himself. An exhausted, kind of broken version, but himself nonetheless. He glanced around the room. ‘The others…?’

‘Have no idea,’ Tony lied. ‘They went off to hang out in Clint’s apartment. Thought they’d leave you to sleep.’

‘And you?’

‘Doing my very best pillow impression.’

Bruce’s expression was sheer dismay. He dropped his head into his hands and groaned.

‘Hey, don’t worry big guy. What’s a bit of cuddling between friends?’ Tony quipped, far more flippantly than he felt. Bruce gave him a look of bone-weary annoyance and in that moment the patience inside Tony snapped. ‘I mean, if that’s still what we are.’ The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them.

‘What are you talking about?’ Bruce’s words were impassive but his eyes told a different story. Guilt, seemingly one of Bruce’s favourite looks, was burning brightly deep inside them. It was all the fuel Tony’s own misplaced sense of self-righteousness needed.

‘I mean that you’ve been actively avoiding me for the last three days and I don’t know the hell why. Don’t get me wrong Banner, I’m no stranger to getting the cold shoulder, only usually I’ve done something to deserve it. Now, I’ve been racking my considerable brains but I can’t figure out for the life of me what I did. So I’d really appreciate it if you could cut the crap and explain to me what’s going on.’

He stared Bruce down, and for his part Bruce had the decency to look flustered. He looked at his hands for the longest time and when he answered he didn’t meet Tony’s eyes. ‘I saw the tape.’

‘Tape?’ Tony could think of any number of leaked videos that had caused people to yell at him, and many more which Jarvis had locked away on the servers with the explicit instruction to “never show to anyone, under any circumstances, ever.” Virtually every mistake he’d ever made was extremely well documented, either publicly or privately, but he couldn’t think of a single thing that should cause Bruce to give him the brush-off. ‘What tape?’

Bruce sighed almost inaudibly. ‘The security feed. From the other night. I… I heard what you said to the other guy. It wasn’t just a lullaby.’

‘Oh.’ _That_ tape. Shit. He really should have told Jarvis to delete that footage. No, scrap that, _burn_ that footage. 

‘You said you’d calmed the other guy down and I kind of figured that was mostly big talk but I thought it might be useful to see what happened in case there was anything I could use. I was looking for a way to make it safer for me to stay. So I watched the video from the security cameras outside my apartment. It… wasn’t what I expected.’

Tony was well and truly sunk. For once in his life he had absolutely no idea what to say. He might have been able to count the number of people he’d talked feelings with before on one hand, but each and every one of them had been pretty damn pleased about it. This was different. Bruce was very obviously not pleased at all.

‘It doesn’t have to mean anything.’ It was sappy, and he realised he was basically pleading with Bruce but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

It took a long moment but Bruce finally looked at him. ‘Except that… it kind of does.’ His voice was quiet and weary. ‘You said you have feelings for me, Tony. I heard you. I don’t think I can be around you anymore.’

Tony couldn’t have been more stunned if Bruce had leaned across and slapped him in the face. A choking mix of shame, disappointment and anger swirled around his brain, making him feel almost lightheaded. Anger won out first.

‘You know what Banner? Of all the people I know, you were the last I expected to be such a bigot.’ He stood up to leave, planning on heading to the workshop with the biggest bottle of scotch he could find, but before he could take two steps Bruce had crossed the distance between them, placing one hand on his arm. 

‘Tony, no, I didn’t mean-’

‘What?’ Against his better judgement Tony turned back to face him. He crossed his arms and regarded Bruce coolly. ‘This had better be good.’

In front of him Bruce fidgeted with his cuffs but didn’t say anything. Tony raised his eyebrows in a “get the hell on with it” gesture. He was just about to walk out when Bruce rolled his eyes heavenward, took a deep breath a said in a rush, ‘I didn’t mean I don’t want to be around you. I do, far too much. That’s why I can’t be. It’s not safe. The other guy doesn’t like big emotion, and when I thought you just pitied me or wanted a science buddy or whatever I could pretend like it was okay, but this is too real and I can’t pretend anymore, Tony. The people I care about always end up getting hurt, or worse, and I can’t risk that.’

‘Hang on.’ Tony frowned at him, trying to evaluate what Bruce had said. ‘I just want to be clear, are you saying what I think you’re saying?’

‘Yes.’

‘You like me? Like, _like_ me, like me?’

‘ _Yes._ But like I said, it’s stupid and it’s dangerous and I can’t risk this again, Tony. I won’t. I tried before; it didn’t end well.’ He walked past Tony, heading for the door, but paused on the threshold. ‘I’ll be gone tomorrow morning. I’m sorry.’

For a second Tony was frozen to the spot, trying desperately to fathom all the new information, but just before Bruce walked out of the door he wheeled around. ‘Wait. What if we just pretended like this never happened?’ It just about killed him to say it, but Bruce’s safety was top priority. It was better to have Bruce here and be tortured by what he couldn’t have than to have no Bruce at all. ‘What if we just decide to be friends? We don’t even have to hang out. Just…’ He took a breath, closing his eyes against the bizarre sensation of speaking his feelings. ‘… Don’t go.’

Bruce didn’t turn around, but he didn’t walk away either. When he spoke his voice was thick. ‘We’ll try it. We’ll see.’ Then he did leave, quietly closing the door behind him. 

Tony went in search of the scotch and something to blow up.

***

Hours later, as the sun was rising, Tony finally returned to his apartment. Neatly folded on the bed was the sweatshirt that Bruce had borrowed. Past all pretence of dignity Tony shrugged it on over the top of his tshirt and curled up on top of the covers. He fell asleep inhaling Bruce’s scent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MORE TROPES HOORAY. Also I promise ACTUAL SLASH next chapter. Cross my heart.*
> 
> (*Unless I change my mind.)


	4. 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony needs a good kick. Natasha delivers it.

Tony knew good whiskey. He knew his scotch from his bourbon, knew which single malts were worth paying through the nose for and which weren’t, could find the rarest bottles at the best prices. He even owned a distillery somewhere in Scotland. Two weeks - and more glasses than he could count - after the movie night he couldn’t quite remember its name but he knew that the whiskey it produced was _very_ good.

Thank god for whiskey.

Being _just friends_ with Bruce, it was turning out, wasn’t easy. In fact it was near-enough fucking impossible. After their conversation on movie night it had taken two days for Tony to work out that Bruce would not be coming to _him_ to take the friendship for a test drive. No: if Tony wanted to give this platonic thing a try then the onus was evidently on him.

So he’d tried. He’d hung around the lab. He’d dragged Bruce forcibly to group dinners. He’d asked for Bruce to come and help by passing him tools when he was deep inside the Roadster’s engine and had ignored Bruce’s bored expression and questions of ‘Isn’t this normally Butterfingers’ job?’

And none of it, _none of it_ had resulted in anything other than Bruce avoiding eye contact slinking off the moment he could. One time he’d left the lab in the middle of a simulation with the flimsy excuse of wanting to get a drink – there was a fucking state-of-the-art coffee machine right there, for Christ’s sake! – and when he’d returned a whole forty-five minutes later he’d barely managed to hide his annoyance that Tony was still there.

No, that wasn’t totally fair. Bruce _had_ tried, a couple of times, to initiate some basic human interaction with Tony. It was just that the man was so awkward, so painfully self-conscious, that he couldn’t seem to make any conversation last past a few simple exchanges before they lapsed into awkward silence. Then eventually Bruce would make an excuse to leave and Tony would decide to work on the latest design for Clint’s tranquilizer arrows, or tweak the electrodes on the Widow’s Bite for Natasha, but sooner or later he’d find himself sitting at the bar instead, nursing a glass and wondering what the hell he was going to do about Banner. At some point he’d stumble to bed, or, more often, to the nearest couch and wake a few hours later to down a couple of cups of the blackest coffee available and start all over again.

This evening was no exception. In a last-ditch attempt to act like things were normal Tony had ordered food from one of the best Thai restaurants in Manhattan – Thai food seemed like the sort of thing Bruce would like – and had taken it down to Bruce’s lab under the pretence of needing to pick his brain about integrating nervous-system-responsive controls into his latest suit. It hadn’t gone to plan. Bruce had barely even looked up from the computer screen when he came in and Tony hadn’t made it halfway through his spiel before Bruce had sighed loudly, said he was very busy, and asked him to leave. He never even mentioned the enormous tray of food that Tony had dragged into the lab.

That was it. Tony was _done_. Or at least that was what he told himself all the way to the penthouse; told himself as he poured a drink with shaking hands that spilt amber liquid on the bar top; told himself over and over again until the ice cubes in his glass had melted quietly into the two fingers he’d swallowed down and refilled three times over. By that point, he didn’t know _what_ he wanted to tell himself anymore.

His head was starting to ache and he fought the pathetic urge to just curl up and lay his forehead against the cool steel of the bar top; the very picture of pitiful spurned love. He’d thrown the Thai food in a trash chute on his way back up to the penthouse but the smell still lingered spitefully on his clothes. He needed to shower. He needed to change into clean sweats and drink a large glass of water and get an early night, but self-care had never been Tony’s strong point and right now that took a level of effort and willpower that he simply didn’t possess. Besides, the whiskey bottle was a lot closer. He poured himself another two fingers, reconsidered, and filled the glass to the brim. 

‘Big night?’

Tony nearly jumped out of his skin and spat out a mouthful of liquor as Natasha slipped cat-like onto the neighbouring barstool. Her hair was pulled back into an elegantly twisted bun, at odds with her SHIELD-issue hoodie and sweatpants, and her left cheekbone was swollen with a sore-looking and clearly fresh red-purple bruise.

He lacked the energy for real venom but Tony still put his best effort into glaring at her, trying to calm his racing heart. ‘What the fuck are you doing in my apartment?’

She ignored his question and reached for the whiskey bottle then leaned over the bar to retrieve a glass. ‘Hi Natasha, nice to see you, oh by the way thanks for preventing that terrorist attack today, I hope not too many of them tried to kill you,’ she deadpanned.

_‘Why are you in my apartment?’_ It wasn’t that he didn’t like Natasha. It was just that he really, _really_ wanted to be alone. Of course she picked this night to get all chummy.

‘Because it’s been a long day and this is where you keep the good stuff.’ She took a sip of the whiskey and made an appreciative noise. ‘You have no idea how many years I’ve spent drinking with muttonheads who think Jack Daniels is the height of class.’

‘Quit bullshitting me; Jarvis could get you any liquor you wanted within fifteen minutes and you know it.’ He rubbed his eyes. He was too tired for this. ‘Just tell me why you’re here so we can both get on with our evenings in peace.’

Natasha took another sip before she replied. ‘Fine. Though I don’t know where you think you’re going to find another drinking buddy who can keep up with you.’

‘I don’t _want_ a drinking buddy; that’s kind of the point.’

She put down her glass and looked him full in the eyes. ‘Maybe not. But I do think you need a friend.’ Her calm, steady eye contact felt like a searchlight being shone over his soul and Tony required every bit of his willpower not to look away, carefully schooling a blank expression onto his face.

‘Yeah? What makes you think that?’

Natasha slid her gaze pointedly to the tumbler full of whiskey still sitting in front of Tony and back to his face. He sighed and flicked the glass’s rim with a chewed finger nail, the sound dulled and deadened by the liquid inside.

‘Fair point.’

When he looked back at Natasha she looked warmer, softer. She pulled the cuffs of her slightly-too-large sweatshirt down over her hands like mittens and curled her hands around her glass. It was all an act, of course; body language designed to put him at ease and make him more willing to talk, but he didn’t really care. He quite often found Natasha’s arsenal of creepy spy tricks disconcerting, but the fact that she was willing to use them to help him was… well, it was quite nice, actually.

‘So,’ she said, ‘What’s made you decide to try and pickle your insides tonight?’

‘I could tell you.’ He paused to swallow a mouthful of whiskey. He was damned if he was going to let it go to waste. ‘Or we could both acknowledge that you have freaky observation skills and probably knew what was going on before I did.’

She cocked her head with a smile and gave him a kind of half-shrug. ‘Before Bruce did, too, if it makes you feel any better.’

‘Knew it.’ Hell, Natasha had probably known from the moment they first set eyes on each other on the helicarrier, what seemed like a lifetime ago. ‘So, what’s the angle? “Don’t try to have sex with your teammates Tony”? “Do you really think this is a good idea Tony?” Well, first of all: yes I think it’s a _great_ idea and second of all: fuck you.’

‘Actually,’ she raised one eyebrow, ‘I was going to tell you to get on with it.’

Tony snorted, ‘What exactly do you think I’ve been trying to do? I’ve tried being a friend, I’ve tried giving him space, none of it’s _working_.’

‘And you’re, what, surprised?’ The eyebrow – perfectly shaped, when the hell did she find time for _that_ in between saving the world and lecturing him? – was still raised in mild incredulity. ‘Think about Bruce, Tony. Think about everything he’s been through. He’s spent years on the run with nothing and nobody, and now suddenly he’s shoved into a place with every luxury known to man and surrounded by super heroes? That’s got to be one hell of an adjustment. And then on top of all this there’s Tony Stark, self-proclaimed playboy and genius, staring at him with puppy eyes whenever he thinks no one’s looking. No offense Tony but you’re more than a handful for someone who _is_ well-adjusted to being around other people.’

Every bit of it was true and every bit made sense and it made Tony ashamed as all hell that he never really stopped to consider any of it.

‘Okay, okay.’ He raked fingers through his hair. ‘So you’re saying I just shouldn’t give up and eventually he’ll come round?’

‘Fuck no.’ She downed her drink. ‘I’m saying you should get the hell down to the lab and sort things out before he does something stupid like disappearing off the face of the Earth.’

Tony’s ears pricked up and suddenly he felt horribly sober. ‘What are you saying?’

‘I was down there earlier.’ She touched the bruise on her cheekbone carefully. ‘A few fights back I got real bruised up and he made me this stuff to put on it with herbs and God knows what else. Really worked. So after my face and the concrete floor became so well acquainted today I thought he could maybe help out. Beats being poked about by SHIELD doctors, you know?’ Tony nodded. He wasn’t overly keen on medical doctors himself. ‘So I went down to the lab and he fixed me up. But it’s so obvious that something’s wrong. Badly wrong. He looks terrible; I don’t think he’s slept in at least a week.’

Tony dropped his eyes guiltily. ‘I know.’

‘I’d deal with it myself if I thought he’d listen to me but this is about you, Tony. I know it is. You’re the one he needs to fix it.’

Somehow while she was speaking she’d managed to move his glass away from him and now she swallowed what was left. She made to leave but he stopped her with a gentle touch of fingers at her wrist. 

‘Natasha? Since when did you care so much about Banner?’

For the first, and probably only, time he could tell he’d caught her off guard. ‘He’s part of the team.’

His fingers were still touching her skin and it crossed his mind how lucky he was that she hadn’t broken his arm yet. He still pushed, anyway. ‘No. It’s more than that.’ He scrutinised her. Sometimes it was hard to remember that underneath all her cool efficiency was a real person. ‘Wait, you don’t…? You’re not…?’

He couldn’t quite bring himself to say the words _in love with him_. Not even when he was talking about someone else.

She smiled chuckled and, for just a moment, Tony got the impression that her shields were down. ‘Maybe in another world. Not this one.’ Then she was gone and the elevator doors were sliding silently shut behind her.

Tony waited for a moment after she left before he asked his AI something that had been bugging him. ‘J, why did you let her in?’

Someone who didn’t know Jarvis wasn’t real, who was unaware that the real Edwin Jarvis had died too many years ago, might have said that his voice, when he answered, was fond. Perhaps even concerned. ‘I suppose one of my protocols must have been malfunctioning, sir.’

***

Tony didn’t hurry to Bruce’s lab the way the annoying little voice at the back of his brain insisted he perhaps should. Some days, usually after he’d woken abruptly from mal-remembered horrors to sweat-drenched sheets, he would be spoiling for a fight and would spend a significant portion of his day winding people – usually but not exclusively Clint – up. It wasn’t one of his best qualities. Tonight, however, he wasn’t in the mood to argue but he had the feeling that there was an argument in store for him anyway. If he was bad at dealing with his feelings appropriately then Bruce’s coping mechanisms were fucking _appalling_.

He could have taken the elevator and been there in seconds but instead he chose the stairs. Ten damn flights of stairs. It was down, at least – Tony had rightly guessed that Bruce would prefer not to be right on the doorstep of Stark Industries R&D and had placed his lab on the level between the rarely-occupied guest rooms and the team’s private gym – and he fell into the rhythm of the descent. Walking down the concrete stairs after rather too much whiskey required just enough concentration that he didn’t have to think too much about what he was actually going to say to Bruce when he got there. Hell, maybe if he got really lucky he’d miss a step and break his leg. Then he could put this conversation off for another day or two at least.

He reached the level which housed Bruce’s lab and steeled himself before he pushed through the stairway access door. At least there was virtually no chance of running into anybody else; when Bruce was working even the team would mostly leave him to himself. 

Both the stairway and lift opened into a glass-walled antechamber outside the lab doors which served both as a safety precaution – the glass was fireproof, explosion-proof, just-about-any-experiment-gone-wrong-proof and in the event of an emergency would stop anything from spreading to the elevator shaft and stairwell – and as a means for Bruce to see anyone entering the lab. Which, Tony mused, the sort of people who seemed to think Bruce would Hulk-out if they so much as startled him with a loud noise would probably _also_ consider to be a safety measure.

In that second measure though it didn’t really work. Bruce was usually far too absorbed in his work to notice anyone until they were right in front of them and even then, in Tony’s recent experience, he could do a pretty good job of pretending they weren’t there. Normally when Tony came down he could spot Bruce immediately, curl-tangled head bent low over a screen or set of calculations, often absent-mindedly chewing a pen or – occasionally – the arm of his glasses.

Not tonight. Bruce wasn’t at any of the workstations; didn’t appear to be there at all. Maybe he’d gone out to get food? Taking a piss? But there were papers still strewn over one of the countertops and Bruce never, _never_ left things lying around. He was obsessively tidy; “freakish” Tony had once called it. On more than one occasion Tony had even watched him fidget tidying his workstation before going to use the bathroom. 

Well. The other possibility was that he had, for once, seen Tony coming and had made a sharp exit to hide in the store room. Tony really, really hoped their relationship hadn’t degraded to that point. It didn’t seem right though: Bruce hadn’t been exactly thrilled any of the times Tony had turned up in his personal space over the past couple of weeks but he’d never actually _hidden_. 

Feeling increasingly like something was wrong with a capital ‘wuh’ Tony pushed through the heavy door to the lab. No Bruce materialised but he could hear a strange noise: a broken hissing, gasping sound, barely audible even in the quiet of the empty room. Tony’s heart sank as he realised he knew exactly what it was.

‘Bruce?’ he called tentatively. The noise didn’t stop. If anything it grew louder, more erratic. ‘Bruce? Stay there, okay?’

Tony made his way slowly to the workbench covered in Bruce’s papers, making sure that his footsteps were audible. As he rounded the side of the bench Bruce came into view.

He was slumped on the floor, half leaning against a lab stool. He was crying. His chest jumped with suffocated sobs and his face was pink with the effort of suppressing them. He looked once at Tony and turned away, curling into himself.

This was worse than coming down to face an argument. So, so much worse.

There was a row of cupboards a few feet back from where Bruce had been working and Tony slid down one to sit on the tiled white floor. He wanted to scoot over towards Bruce, to reach out and pull him close, but he stopped himself. Not the right time to push it.

It took a great effort on Tony’s part to sit there in stillness and silence but it seemed to have the desired effect. After a few minutes his sobs subsided and they both sat listening to his still-shaky breathing.

‘How is it…’When Bruce finally spoke his voice was a croak, barely louder than a whisper. He turned to look at Tony and tried again. ‘How is it that you always seem to be here when I’m at my worst?’

Tony shrugged. ‘I guess I’m just annoying like that.’ Bruce was watching him with red-rimmed eyes that, Tony noted, were lined with circles so dark it looked like he had two black eyes. His skin was almost grey with tiredness. ‘Nat came to see me tonight. She’s worried about you. Said she thought something was wrong. See, I just thought you were being a complete asshole… but now,’ he gestured vaguely towards Bruce, ‘I’m thinking she might have a point.’

Bruce managed a weak smile and inclined his head in agreement. ‘Yeah, I suppose she might.’

‘So, do you want to tell me what’s up?’

Bruce scrunched his face up, self-consciously scrubbing the sleeve of his lab coat over his damp cheeks. ‘I… I fell asleep. I didn’t mean to; after I patched Natasha up I sat down to look over some calculations and I guess I dozed off. And then…’

‘And then you had another nightmare.’ Tony finished for him when he trailed off. Bruce nodded reluctantly. ‘But you woke up before Hulk made an appearance? That’s something, I guess.’

Bruce pulled a face. ‘I fell off the stool.’

‘Oh.’ Tony grimaced. ‘Ouch.’ 

‘Yeah.’

Tony poked one leg forward and kicked gently at the stool, squeaking it across the floor by a couple of inches. ‘The thing is, though, these things aren’t that comfy. Don’t get me wrong, they’re the best lab stools that money can buy but they’re still _lab stools._ Not that great for getting a good night’s sleep on; definitely not for snoozing long enough to enter REM sleep. Unless, of course, your issues are trying something new and encroaching on your hypnagogic state… in which case: points for effort.’

Bruce looked mildly uncomfortable. ‘I’ve slept in worse places. Maybe I had the heat too high.’

‘Or,’ Tony pursued his point, ‘You got so tired that you could sleep literally anywhere. When was the last time you got a good night’s rest Banner? In a bed, I mean. Sleeping on lab equipment doesn’t count.’

Face painted with utter unhappiness, Bruce avoided Tony’s eyes. ‘It’s fine. I’m fine.’

‘Yeah.’ Tony raised a sarcastic eyebrow. ‘You really seem it.’ Bruce shrugged half-heartedly but made no further answer. Tony sighed. Enough beating around the bush. ‘Look, buddy, can you just tell me what’s been going on? Not just with this; with… everything. With me.’ His heart was beating painfully fast. He looked down, focussing instead on fiddling with a hole in the knee of his jeans. ‘I want to help, Bruce. I just don’t know how.’

When he looked back up he saw that Bruce’s eyes, no longer wandering, were now firmly fixed on him. The unhappiness still burned brightly in them but now tinged with a quiet kind of desperation or perhaps longing that Tony hadn’t seen before.

‘Tony, I’m sorry.’ Bruce’s knees were drawn up halfway to his chest and his arms hugged them protectively in an almost childish pose. ‘I’m no good at this. I’m really no good at this. I guess I never really had a whole lot of practise caring for people and when I did it generally ended… not well.’ His face creased up and his voice shook. ‘I don’t know how to _do_ this, Tony. I don’t know how to make it be okay to want you and I keep thinking that maybe if I could just think straight I could work it out but I’m so _tired_ …’

He trailed off and Tony wondered if it was possible that his heart might actually be breaking, watching his friend crumple in front of him. ‘Bruce. _When did you last sleep?_ ’

Sheepishly, guiltily, Bruce grimaced. ‘After that incident with the Other Guy. When you let me stay with you. That night.’

Tony could only gape at him. ‘Jesus, Bruce, are you kidding me? That was nearly three weeks ago. Are you seriously telling me you haven’t slept since then?’

Bruce wiggled uncomfortably. ‘Not properly. Not for more than an hour or two. I’m so… I’m so _scared_ Tony.’ His voice cracked and he buried his face in his hands. ‘I feel like every time I close my eyes the dreams are right _there_ waiting for me. You have no idea how hard it is to keep the Other Guy in check even when I’m awake, even right now. He knows there’s a threat but he doesn’t know it’s inside my own damn head.’

Taking a chance Tony pushed his foot forward again and toed at Bruce’s well-worn tan leather shoe. Bruce didn’t push him away so he left his foot resting there, the tiniest point of contact.

‘I can’t take the risk,’ Bruce was saying. ‘What if he got out? It’s bad enough that he smashed up my apartment but what if he gets into the rest of the tower? What if he gets _out_ of the tower? I was stupid to stay that night everyone watched the movie; I should have known better. I put everyone in danger and they know it.’ 

Tony started to contradict him but Bruce gave him a withering look that made the words die on his tongue. ‘I _know_ they know what happened, Tony. They don’t mean for me to see but it’s like I’m a ticking time bomb. I’ve been so careful since then. I couldn’t risk falling asleep, _especially_ not outside my apartment again, so I just tried to keep busy down here. But evidently even that’s not going to work anymore.’ A single tear dripped down his cheek and he brushed it impatiently away. ‘So you want to know _what’s going on?_ My “team” is afraid of me. I can’t be around you without hurting you. And I can’t goddamn sleep.’

Tony had only known Bruce for a couple of months but in that time he’d seen him in the moment that the Hulk took him over, ripping him apart with pure fury. He’d seen him in the second that the spark of a scientific idea took hold somewhere deep within and lit him up with excitement. He’d seen him tossing and turning in the grips of a nightmare, held captive by horrors from long and recent past. But he’d never seen Bruce so raw, so utterly vulnerable, as he was right now.

He threw caution to the wind, scooted over the few feet between them and pulled Bruce into a hug. It took a few moments but then Bruce relaxed into him and Tony felt the other man’s head drop on to his shoulder and his arms creep around his waist to hold on tightly. Bruce smelled soft and earthy; of spices, ink and below it all a faint tang of chemicals. Tony could have held on for hours but even the most selfish part of him wouldn’t allow it. There were other things that still needed to be worked on. Regretfully he gently pulled away and Bruce sat back, the faintest blush creeping into his cheeks. Tony tactfully didn’t mention it.

‘Has it…’ He stopped, searching for the right words. ‘Have the nightmares ever been this _bad_ before?’

Bruce gnawed his lip. ‘A couple of times,’ he admitted. ‘When I was little kid. I’d sometimes go through phases of getting them. Usually after Dad had been especially _enthusiastic_ taking out his feelings on me. Or Mom.’ He paused. ‘Particularly if it was Mom.’ 

Silently Tony reached over and squeezed his hand.

‘I couldn’t ever say anything,’ Bruce carried on, ‘because you can imagine what _he_ would have done. But Mom always knew anyway. She’d come and sit with me all night stroking my hair, even when she was so black and blue she could hardly move.’

‘And that helped?’

Bruce nodded. ‘It helped. Just knowing that she would be there if the nightmares came helped to keep them away.’

In Bruce’s hunched shoulders, his haunted eyes, Tony could see the scared little boy he’d once been as clear as day. He didn’t need to ask what Bruce had done about his nightmares afterwards, when they’d come true and there was no mother left to soothe him. Not for the first time Tony found himself wondering how on earth the remarkable man sitting in front of him had even survived, let alone come to be the person he was.

‘Let me help.’

Brow creased in confusion, Bruce stared at him like he was a bit mad. ‘What?’

‘Let me help,’ Tony repeated, ‘Like your Mom used to. Let me stay with you just for the night. I can sit with you; wake you up if you need it.’

Every one of Bruce’s neuroses was visible on his face, an inner struggle that was almost painful to watch. ‘Tony, I don’t know if that’s a great idea.’

‘Of course it is,’ Tony raised one eyebrow, ‘It’s me. Come on, Bruce, it has to be worth a try? You said yourself that the last time you actually slept was when you spent the night with me in my apartment.’ He could see that Bruce was wavering and he pounced on it. ‘I’ll stay awake all night if you want. You can’t go on like this. You’re right: you’re going to become a threat. Only more to yourself than anyone else.’

The hope that spread over Bruce’s face was heart breaking. ‘All night? You’d really do that?’

Tony nodded once decisively. ‘Scout’s honour.’

‘Only…’ Bruce seemed to realise that Tony was still holding his hand and he delicately extracted his fingers, wrapping his own hand where Tony’s had been. ‘… It has to be as friends. _Just_ friends. I know that’s kind of a weird friendship but I can’t… I’m not ready. Yet. Is that okay?’

He looked so ready to be let down that Tony didn’t have it in his heart to be disappointed. He held his hands up, palms forward and fingers spread. ‘I promise to keep them where you can see them.’ The glimmer of a smile that crossed Bruce’s face was worth all the disappointment in the world. ‘Now, if you don’t mind, sitting down here has made my butt fall asleep.’

He stood up and offered a hand to Bruce, helping him awkwardly to his feet. ‘Dr Banner, would you do me the honour of allowing me to escort you to your apartment?’

Bruce smirked but, rather than reply, stepped in close and kissed him. It was less than a second, hardly even there, but the sensation burned itself immediately and unforgettably into Tony’s brain. He could only imagine what his face must have looked like as Bruce pulled away. ‘Getting some mixed messages here, buddy,’ he managed to stammer.

Bruce had retreated a couple of steps back but his cheeks were pink and he smiled slightly nervously. ‘I suppose that’s my way of telling you not to give up on me.’

Tony felt a grin spreading across his face. ‘Never.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone who isn't a bit of a sleep psychology nerd (like me) nightmares usually occur during REM sleep, the first episode of which comes at the end of a sleep cycle roughly 70-90 minutes after someone falls asleep. The hypnagogic state is part of the first stage of sleep where a person isn't quite asleep yet but can experience images a little like dreaming. This is a super-generalised explanation but my brain insisted that I put it here because I'm exciting like that ;)
> 
> Want to flail about Tony and Bruce with me? You can find me on tumblr [here](http://squishylittlebear.tumblr.com/).


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